


Something to be Proud Of

by DunmerLover



Series: The Hero and the Knight [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: By which I mean Valen Dreth survives, Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Dunmer/Imperial, Dunmer/human, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Farwil is pure elven filth, Grief/Mourning, M/M, OC worships Farwil, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Post-Oblivion Crisis, Rough Sex, Slight Canon Divergence, Some attempt at redemption, The Wayward Knight, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunmerLover/pseuds/DunmerLover
Summary: Keeping the promise she made to Farwil Indarys, the Hero of Kvatch - now Champion of Cyrodiil - returns to Cheydinhal after the Oblivion Crisis so they can be together. However, she returns to a changed man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one big chapter, but towards the end I realised I was condensing it a lot to keep it to a manageable length, so I decided to split it into 3 smaller chapters instead and just write as much as I needed to in each one.
> 
> See tags. I honestly don't know where *this* came from. I started writing this so long ago now and got it finished so slowly it's just become a constant in my memory. This is probably the most explicit thing I've ever written, and I'm not sure what, but something about Farwil does that to me.
> 
> This is part 2 of another, much more upbeat story about the HoK and Farwil.
> 
> This is also almost definitely the closest thing to human/human I'll ever write in a TES fic.

_Cheydinhal seems hardly touched by the final assault_ , Ili Dantian noted to herself when she passed through the great gates. As the rain fell, lightly but surely from a grey, overcast sky, she looked upon that beautiful city, that calm river and those peaceful streets for the first time in what must’ve been… eight weeks? She’d lost track of time, it would seem.

_The Imperial City got the brunt of it. Then again… it was Martin they were after that time. Why would Dagon’s armies want to go much further than the capital?_

It was hard to watch such destruction and fury come down on the city she’d grown up in. The breathtaking gardens she’d wasted so many summers in as a child - and as an adult come back to whenever she got the chance - they’d been burned to the ground, now looking as though Mehrunes Dagon’s armies had brought a very piece of the Deadlands with them when they came. So many homes had been destroyed, and hers was one of them. Ili tried not to dwell on the carnage - her people were hard workers and in time the damage would be repaired, and in time, it would exist only in their memories.

She’d stayed in the Imperial City for a while, relying on inns to keep a roof over hers and her mother’s heads. Upon learning she’d survived the assault, Ili had cried tears of relief. It had been good to spend quality time with her mother before leaving for Cheydinhal, but she knew when she had to go. Ili had made a promise, and she intended to keep it.

She had an idea of where he might be. Ili made for the Castle first - if he wasn’t there, then surely his father would know where to find him. There was always the Lodge, too… yet Ili didn’t want to barge straight into the man’s home uninvited.

Perhaps that was why she’d lingered in the Imperial City for so long after making things right - they’d only spent one night together. They’d said so many things in the heat of the moment, made promises he probably didn’t care for. He was a Knight of the Thorn, after all. Farwil Indarys had probably forgotten all about Ili, he’d probably moved on to someone else. He was far too good for her.

Like she’d promised, Ili had waited for him - as if _any_ other man had come into her life… let alone struck her the way Farwil did. That was why she’d returned, some intangible pull inside her like an animal migrating on instinct alone. And only now she was back, she was certain she’d made a mistake. What made her think he’d want anything to do with her? What made her think he wanted more than one night? That she was back in Cheydinhal at all was insanity.

She had to leave. Right now. Halfway up the slope to the great Castle, the Imperial turned and retreated, hastily, head down, hoping she’d drawn as little attention to herself as possible. Hopefully he’d never find out about this-

“...Ili?”

She kept moving.

“Ili! It _is_ you! Iliana Dantian, wait up!”

Finally, reluctantly, she looked up, still not standing up straight, and turned her head in the direction of that impossibly low voice. She recognised it straight away, yet her heart still sank when Bremman Senyan jogged over, finally catching up to her - there was no way she could avoid this getting back to Farwil now.

She looked into her fellow Imperial’s kind eyes. He smiled warmly down at her, maybe out of pity, Ili couldn’t tell, and it occurred to her that she’d not seen him looking truly _well_ before now. When they first met he was injured. After their trek through Oblivion he’d been exhausted. It seemed he’d gotten some proper rest.

“Bremman…” the girl said weakly. “It’s good to see you. I was just… going.”

Bremman’s dark eyebrows knitted together in a frown, disappointed yet a little confused. “That’s a shame,” he said. “I was hoping you’d come back some day and catch up.”

She mirrored his confusion, head cocked to the side. “Really?”

“Of course! Farwil has _not stopped talking about you_ , and I wish I could say I was exaggerating!”

He chuckled a little. “Maybe he’ll shut up for a moment now you’re back.”

Ili’s heart leapt into her throat. “He’s… missed me?”

Bremman tilted his head and fixed her with a look that told her clearly, in no words, that she need not have bothered asking that. The girl felt as though her stomach had been filled with ice.

“Where is he?”

“Where do you think? He’s in the Lodge.”

Ili nodded. “I’ll catch up with you after…wards…” she said, trailing off.

Bremman offered an encouraging touch to her arm. “I understand,” he said. “Go to him. He’s waited long enough.”

She wasted no time. Ili burst through the gates and ran through the fields as fast as her legs would take her, with only an increasingly hazy memory of where that building was to guide her. When she scrambled up the hill, the Lodge came into view. If she hadn’t heard the dull thud, and seen the lone arrow sink into the target, in the very corner of her vision, she’d have made straight for the front door. Instead, she slowed as she approached the yard.

She peered around the wall to find Farwil, in full armour, training despite the rain now pouring down on them both. He stood in the middle of the small space, bow drawn and arrow nocked as he aimed again at the hay bale some way away. As he aimed, Ili watched, approached silently, and she couldn’t mistake the way his crimson eyes burned. There was determination there, fierce. She’d fought by his side for hours and never once seen it burn quite this strong.

Farwil loosed the arrow and it joined a few others in and around the centre of the target. That glow in his features, that snarl of concentration softened a little into something resembling pride. He reached over his shoulder for another.

Ili stepped forward. “…Farwil?” she said softly.

At the sound of the voice, the elf’s head snapped in its direction. His whole face lit up when he met the Imperial’s eyes.

“Ili!” he cried, tossing the bow aside. He rushed forwards and threw his arms around her, squeezing her tight and not letting go. “You’re back! I mean, I knew the Oblivion Crisis was over but I never let myself _dream_ you’d actually come back!”

He let go just enough to look her over again, properly, huge eyes roving over every detail, every freckle, every change. One hand reached up to her face, brushing away soaked dark blond hair that stuck to her cheek. He kissed her fiercely, deeply, passion burning between the two, and didn’t stop. He backed her against the wall of the Lodge and the stone grazed her skin as she collided, but she didn’t care as he continued to explore her mouth with his tongue.

When he finally broke away he could barely find his voice. “No one else…” he breathed. He claimed her mouth again. “I waited for you…”

And again. “No one else…”

“I know… I know,” Ili whispered in return. “Let’s get indoors.”

Farwil needed no encouragement to take the girl by the hand and pull her along behind him, around the Lodge and through the door. Ili welcomed the warmth and the dry for a moment, and together they rushed up one flight of stairs, completely ignoring the Breton who sat at a table. As the pair climbed up, his eyes followed until they were out of sight.

When they reached the top floor, the Dunmer kissed Ili again before throwing her down on the large bed, and she noticed the hesitancy in his actions straight after he did. It looked to her like he couldn’t decide whether to climb straight on with her or take off his armour first. In the end he decided on the latter, kicking off his boots and urgently throwing off quiver, cuirass and tunic. As he stripped down to his underwear Ili’s eyes took in every familiar detail, every muscle, every healing wound on his strong body - some she recognised from their adventure together and some she didn’t, before Farwil climbed on the bed with her, straddling her hips. He was already hard as stone, so eager for what was to come next. He began to remove her simple dress with care, ground his hips roughly into hers as he cast the garment aside, and leaned down, kissed her again.

Crimson eyes lingered on the medallion hanging above Ili’s bare breasts. His thumb brushed lazily over a hardening nipple, over and over while his gaze stayed trained on the amulet, and Ili’s whimper of longing was what took his attention away from it.

“You still wear it,” he said.

Ili nodded. “Proudly,” she replied. “I struck fast and true as lightning.”

Farwil wiped the smile off her face by claiming her mouth again. She’d noticed _his_ medallion straight away, an exact copy of the one she wore - it would seem he’d kept the promise he made.

“I missed you Ili…” he eventually murmured, red eyes half-lidded as he gazed into the Imperial’s hazel. “I feared you wouldn’t return.”

Ili’s fingertips trailed along smooth dark skin as she rested her hands on Farwil’s muscular back. “There were times I thought I might not survive either,” she said.

Farwil’s lip curled into a small smile, almost sad, as he shook his head gently. He stroked her wet hair. “No…” he said simply. “I knew you’d survive. I feared you wouldn’t want to come back.”

This wasn’t like Farwil, she thought to herself. She hadn’t ever heard him talk like _this_ before. Where was that charming veneer of reckless, _oblivious_ confidence that lifted her spirits and made her laugh the whole time they battled their way through the Deadlands together?

“How could I possibly not want to come back to you?”

He didn’t respond. Instead he kissed her again, slowly and deeply, and nuzzled his nose against hers lightly. Ili giggled against her lover’s cheek. More than once in her journey, the only thing that kept her going was the thought of coming back here, to this. To him.

Farwil pulled off Ili’s underwear and threw them aside. He shifted back a little, surveying the girl’s form hungrily - all his, before settling back down on his elbows. He placed light kisses on Ili’s smooth sex, inhaling deep as he committed the scent of her to memory. She watched him curiously as his lips moved closer, yet still so far, from where she wanted him the most. She gasped openly as his tongue explored her clit. _Gifted_ , was the single thought that ran through Ili’s mind as Farwil worked her with enthusiasm, beginning with slow, gentle licks, and before long he sucked hungrily on the sensitive bud, and after that comprehensible thoughts were beyond her.

This was all new. Ili moaned openly when he slid a finger inside, curling upwards into that place inside of her that for some reason felt better than anything else.

“Mmh… yes…” she crooned. “That’s good…”

He never stopped sucking her clit, however his eyes flicked up to her face when she began to cry out, and he saw her writhe in delight. His cock throbbed against the mattress - he so badly wanted to be inside her again, more than anything, but what was more important was giving Ili something she deserved. He’d do things differently this time around. The elf’s free hand travelled along her body - up her mound, her stomach, to the curve of her breast where he massaged gently, rolling a nipple between skilled fingers.

“ _Yes…!_ ”

She gripped the bedsheets tight. Could she come from this alone? Ili didn’t know, but the more her lover spoiled her, the more confident she became that she would. Yet, the words still spilled from her mouth. “Take me Farwil…” she breathed.

He wasted no time in obliging, equally as eager if not more so. In an instant he was knelt over her again, offering one final kiss before lining himself up and easing inside her wet passage. Ili moaned in delight as his generous length filled her up and he sighed heavily against her ear - memories of the last time all came back to her so clearly, the way he’d fucked her as though his life depended on it. She certainly hadn’t been expecting it, but it had been wonderful. _Perfect_.

This time, however, was nothing like that. He was gentle, and slow, and as he rocked into her, over and over, Farwil gazed down at Ili like she was the only thing that existed.

“I’m so glad you came back.”

One hand left its place on Farwil’s back, and came up to graze his cheek, pale thumb brushing over the smattering of beauty marks on the left side of his face. She wouldn’t change a thing about this moment, not a thing.

He was overwhelmed entirely by emotion - that which he could’ve so easily kept to himself he was no longer able to hide in the moment. “I love you,” he whispered.

There was no mistaking it - Ili’s eyes welled up with tears that didn’t shed, and with eyes shining she never looked away.

“I love you too…” she said, her voice strained as she choked up.

Farwil kissed her again and those tears finally rolled down her face. His movements were faster now, starting to resemble the night they’d shared all those weeks ago as he took her a little less gently.

“Mmh… More…”

He was only too happy to give her exactly what she wanted as he rutted into her repeatedly, faster, panting against her neck. He placed desperate kisses and sucked hard on flushed skin, leaving bold hickeys at the crook of her neck, only breaking away at the sound of the front door opening somewhere downstairs.

His still-measured thrusts began to slow, distracted, before he met Ili’s eyes.

“What do you say to having an audience again?” he breathed.

Ili shrugged her shoulders a little, wearing a wide smirk. She didn’t mind having an audience, not if it was what Farwil wanted. She found him and his interests strangely exciting. He flipped their positions, lying down on his back and gesturing for Ili to straddle his body. She knelt atop and began to ride, grinding her hips in a steady rhythm with his own.

“Bremman!” Farwil called out sharply, his head hanging over the edge of the bed. “Is that you? Come here! Bring Jhared!”

Ili continued to grind, and grinned down at her lover as hushed voices exchanged words she couldn’t hear on the floor below, the Imperial and the Breton pausing every now and then.

“...He lets you watch,” Bremman’s distinctive deep voice could be made out. “...We all did things like this a lot.”

While the Breton deliberated, the only sounds to be heard were the creaks of the long-suffering bedsprings and the panting of the ones abusing them on the top floor.

“...Next time,” the Breton named Jhared said eventually. The nervousness was clear in his voice. “That’s a promise.”

The pair continued to fuck slowly as one set of boots climbed the stairs below. Bremman came into Ili’s line of sight and in any other circumstances she might’ve noticed the rain had soaked him too. He came up to the top floor and looked away somewhat more timidly than Ili expected, not meeting her eyes while he settled himself against the wall. He unlaced his pants and pulled out his cock - stood to attention already. While he began to rub himself he finally allowed his gaze to travel more confidently over every inch of Ili’s naked form, revelling in the way her lithe body ground atop his friend, whose strong chest heaved with pleasure. Ili really didn’t know where to look or what to do with herself.

“Come _here_ Bremman,” Farwil repeated a little more insistently. The look on his flushed face was surprisingly innocent considering the situation they were in, and Bremman straightened up, confusion written on his own features. He approached tentatively and yelped in surprise when Farwil, still upside-down, grabbed him by the hips with both hands and pulled him closer. As the elf began to lick his shaft enthusiastically Bremman gave him a look that screamed _what in gods’ names was he doing_ before Farwil engulfed his friend’s dick entirely, taking him in as far as he could and that fearful look melted into one of sheer bliss.

Bremman gave himself to the moment. His eyes closed lazily and he released an unabashed moan as Farwil swallowed him up almost to the hilt, and all of a sudden hands that he’d not known _what_ to do with just a moment ago were weaving through the Dunmer’s wet hair, fingering raven braids, thumbs trailing the length of his long ears as Farwil came up for air, sucking and licking and taking him in again.

 _I guess a man would know how best to please another man_ , Ili thought to herself as she watched in fascination, still riding.

Bremman thrust down his friend’s throat, settling into a comfortable rhythm and Ili, far too distracted by what she was seeing only now noticed her fellow Imperial’s hands travelling her own body, gliding along defined curves, hungry as he squeezed her toned ass. She met Bremman’s gaze as he massaged her modest breasts, squeezing a nipple between finger and thumb every now and then, drawing out moans that weren’t _quite_ as wanton as his own. They leaned in closer to one another, lips hovering barely an inch away from one another’s. Ili’s hands reached under the hem of his tunic and explored hard muscle beneath her fingertips.

The first kiss was awkward. Ili held onto Bremman’s shoulders and back for balance and their tongues met like it was the first time either had made out with anyone. As if to spur him on, Farwil began to hum deeply around the Imperial’s dick and he positively whimpered into Ili’s mouth, falling into the kiss, deep and urgent - neither came up for air for a while after that. His chest pressed against hers and his raging heartbeat matched her own, his pistoning into the younger man’s mouth now erratic.

Unsurprisingly Bremman was the first to come. His wail of abandon was lost in Ili’s mouth and he emptied down Farwil’s throat. The Dunmer swallowed everything readily and let go of his friend’s cock and hips. Breathing heavy, Bremman broke away from Ili, still trying to compose himself as Farwil gripped the girl’s ass and eased her off his length.

“Get up,” he said fiercely.

Ili obeyed, finding herself surprised at just how worked up Farwil had gotten. As he got to his knees, she wasn’t expecting him to throw her down on the pillows quite as roughly as he did and she cried out briefly in sheer surprise. He climbed back over her, and as he stared intently into her hazel eyes it was like he wasn’t seeing her at all. She’d never seen someone quite so aroused before.

He buried himself inside her again, fucking her frantically, so fast and so hard, it was all _so damn intense_ Ili knew she’d come undone. She was about to burst. She barely registered Farwil’s breath against her ear, fevered shallow panting washed over heated skin. There was something so animal about the way he railed her - like he was channelling Sanguine himself. He didn’t seem to be all there in that moment yet Ili knew he was. She gasped for air.

The Imperial’s back arched violently and nails dug deep into the muscles of his back as her climax wracked her, she wailed languidly. Farwil didn’t try to quiet her, he let her scream for him, rutting harder and more desperately, the only thought running through his mind, addled with lust, was chasing his own release. With an open, guttural roar he came with her, pumping deep inside, and by the time her own cries were little more than exhausted moans, his own frantic hips had stilled.

The two shared a few more seconds of simply gazing into one another’s eyes as they bathed in the afterglow, and he placed a brief kiss on her parted lips before collapsing on the bed beside her. Still buried inside, he pulled her body in against his own. Ili heard Farwil say _something_ , mumbled and incoherent, probably meant for her to hear even though she never did. Whatever he’d said, she knew it would’ve made her smile had she heard it. They slept there, unmoving and undisturbed, for some hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Cheydinhal Bridge Inn was somewhat quiet at this time of the evening, when the sky had yet to grow entirely dark. A cold evening anyway, a chill ran through the air and outside the tavern the rain still poured, yet inside the patrons were warmed by a roaring fire. Farwil and Ili listened to the rain assault the windows for a while, for the most part ignoring the few who passed by their table, making their ways up and down the stairs.

Farwil drank his wine slowly. His eyes glowed as they reflected the fire he stared somewhat absent-mindedly into. Ili took the moment of silence between them to watch him. He really was gorgeous. Perfect, even. She’d missed just spending any time with him.

“Did Cheydinhal get much attention after we closed the gate?” Ili finally broke the silence.

Farwil deliberated. “There was one final gate,” he said. “Just like that one. But this one was _inside_ the city walls.”

“What happened? Were there Daedra? Did they cause much damage? Did they…”

“A few casualties, but nothing serious,” Farwil replied. “The gate wasn’t open anywhere near long enough for that. It seemed liked it disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. And the Daedra that came out… we took care of them quickly.”

“’We’?”

Farwil took another sip of the wine, and set the goblet down. “Everyone,” he said. “Everyone in Cheydinhal who could brandish a weapon, did. We came together, and fought them off as a city! It really was an amazing sight, actually. I wish you could’ve seen it.”

“I wish I could’ve seen it too,” Ili replied. She placed a hand over his. “But the most important thing is that it’s all over. Imagine that! No more Oblivion gates, no more Daedra! Just us, and our peace and our freedom.”

She didn’t expect Farwil to slide his hand out from under hers. She sat upright, confused, as the Dunmer resumed staring sadly into that fire. A long silence fell on them both. Something was very wrong, to Ili that much was obvious. Was he rejecting her? Hadn’t he said only an hour or so before…

“Farwil… what’s wrong?” she asked, ever so quietly, ever so gently. She eased her seat closer to him.

Not looking away from the fire (oh, Ili was a second away from stomping the damned thing out herself), “I’m a fraud,” he said simply, sadly. It was a confession. “The Knights of the Thorn… we never did anything of note. We never _did_ any of those things I told you. We drank, we laughed, we made up stories, and we got laid, not necessarily in that order. Nothing more.”

By now he was slumped over the damp table, head in hands, fingers weaving through long, raven hair. “And you left without saying a word, like you never even existed…”

“I’m sorry,” Ili said. Guilt stabbed at her, and she even winced in response. “I had things to do… I’m so sorry. I’d have stayed until the morning had I known…”

She trailed off, and Farwil’s eyes finally met hers as he turned his head ever so slightly.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said darkly. “Look at you… look at what you’ve done. You left so quietly because you didn’t want to make a scene. At the celebration I could see it - it was always about someone else. Even now… you don’t want to take any credit for _saving Tamriel_.”

He sighed through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how you can sit here with me. I don’t know how you can tell me you love me.”

Ili’s heart sank like a stone in a river. “Because I _do_.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Ili didn’t know what to say. “That’s what this is about?” she asked. “You think I shouldn’t be here because I’m meant to be some grand hero? You forget this was all thrust upon me, and I didn’t really have a choice! I was once like you-”

She stopped in her tracks, distinctly aware of who she sounded like. “What I mean is _I_ never did anything of note either. I’m twenty-one years old and I’d done nothing with my life until all this happened. I was a janitor in the City dungeon, for gods’ sakes! If… the Emperor… if he hadn’t come in and taken me away… and died… I’d still be there now. The only reason I can handle a warhammer is because laying into a training dummy every night was the only thing that stopped the monotony driving me mad.”

Farwil paid attention to her words but said nothing in return.

“What I mean is… no one’s born a hero. I was forced into that role, and if it was you, you’d have done everything I did.”

“How can you say that when I’m the reason they’re not here?” he said quietly. He straightened up. “It was all my fault.”

“You weren’t to know, Farwil. You did what you felt was right and they followed you gladly.”

Unshed tears swam in his crimson eyes. “It wasn’t right though was it… they’re still dead. I miss them _so much_ …”

Ili really didn’t know what to say to that, so she only put her arms around him, holding him close. As she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, she thought about Martin for a short while.

“I know how that feels,” she said eventually.

Farwil’s voice was so quiet. “Was there anybody _you_ couldn’t save?”

Her mind still on the would-be Emperor, she answered that straight away. “There was Martin, of course. You wouldn’t _believe_ how close we got to lighting the Dragonfires… we were so close to it… we _so nearly_ made it all okay. It would’ve been amazing. _He’d_ have been amazing. But… we were too late. And then he…”

Her embrace on Farwil tightened a little.

“...I think he knew it was the only way though,” she continued. “I think he’d accepted that and the ones who couldn’t accept it were the ones he left behind. …Us. I think he was at peace when he died. So… that doesn’t really answer your question. There was someone though…”

Farwil’s ear twitched as he listened intently, saying nothing himself and not looking up.

“An Argonian. When I cleared out the secret Mythic Dawn hideout he was tied up on a pedestal… under a statue. I think they were going to sacrifice him. After the members were all either dead, or fled, I remember going up there to untie him and his eyes never left me, I’ve never seen anyone look so happy to see another person in my whole life.”

“What happened?”

“I meant to untie him, I honestly did. But that was when I saw that damned book. Dagon’s book.”

“The Mysterium Xarxes?”

Ili decided not to question Farwil’s apparently broad knowledge on the matter. “Yeah, that one. I went over to it, and the whole time the guy was screaming to be freed. I just couldn’t help myself, something about the book just… I _had_ to take a look inside. If I’d gone to him before… before reading it, I’d have gotten to him before the statue broke. It fell on him, and I didn’t need to go over to know he was dead because… the cave was all quiet after that. I tried every spell I knew but he was gone.”

“I’m sorry Ili.”

“I think about him a lot. I wonder where he came from, how the Mythic Dawn found him and why they picked him… If he had family… I never even learned his name.”

“Do you feel guilt over it?”

“Of course I do. Not a day goes by I don’t think _if I’d just untied him before picking up that godsdamned book_ …”

Farwil didn’t say anything for a short while. He buried his face further in the crook of Ili’s neck.

His voice cracking, he spoke in barely a whisper. “I feel so much guilt... will it ever go away?”

Ili remained silent as Farwil cried on her shoulder. She let him, only holding him tighter, giving him all the time he needed while he quietly sobbed. As wet tears hit her skin and rolled down, she was the one who gazed thoughtfully into the dying fire.

“I don’t think it ever really goes away,” the Imperial said after a long while. “All you can really do is adjust to it, and try and do good things in their name.”

Farwil sniffled and met her eyes. “That we have,” he said weakly. “I’ve trained hard since then - we all have. The three of us that survived… we took up patrols with the city watch. We’ve cleared out a couple of bandit camps too. It’s all been for them. I want us to be something to be proud of. I want to look back some day and be proud to call myself a Knight of the Thorn.”

Ili wore a warm smile. “I think you already can. I know _I_ am, if you still consider me one of you.”

“Of course we do.”

“I’ll always strike fast and true as lightning, and I’ll do it for them, and for the Argonian. I’ll patrol with you and I’ll take on any foe in their name. You’re already making a better name for yourselves… so…”

She squeezed him tight, trying her best to be encouraging. “…Huzzah?”

The glum look on the elf’s perfect face brightened a little, a weak smile began to form. “Huzzah,” he repeated.

Another long silence fell over them, and the pair finished their drinks while the innkeeper tended to the fire and a few new patrons entered.

“So what will the _Champion of Cyrodiil_ do now?” Farwil asked. When Ili looked back up to him, she was glad to see his smile was much more convincing. “You’ve saved Tamriel… I assume you won’t go back to being the dungeon janitor?”

Ili returned the smile. “Damn right about that. As for what I’m going to do… I really don’t know. My mother and I don’t have a home any more so first and foremost we need to find somewhere to live.”

She looked down into the dregs of her ale. “Half the capital’s been destroyed but there should be _somewhere_ we can buy. Mother ran a bookstore before then, I want to help her get it up and running again.”

Farwil looked hurt. His ears drooped a little in disappointment. “You haven’t thought about moving to Cheydinhal? I always thought we could have something… if you did.”

Internally Ili sighed with relief, but remained calm on the outside. Of _course_ she’d thought about moving to Cheydinhal, and having something with him. “If you’d have me,” she said, her smile growing wider. “There’s no other man I’d want to be with.”

The Dunmer’s warm hand rested gently atop hers. A callused thumb grazed her skin, and Farwil beamed at her. “Ili… of course I’d have you.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You never did tell me why you learned magic. For a janitor, you make a decent mage.”

“I taught myself over the years. Since Mother had a bookstore before everything got destroyed, I could read up on the basics whenever I wanted.”

The rain had passed overnight leaving behind a clear morning, dry save for the wet layer on the cobblestones beneath their feet. Ili and Farwil entered the great gates and walked the path to the Castle, hand in hand.

Ili smiled to herself as she reminisced. “Mother rented a room to an Imperial scholar for a long time… and we both had the same idea. Mother used to joke that she was living with two freeloaders, and we’d have to start paying for the books soon… because we’d stay up well into the night reading together - it stopped when Ari started to go insane though. She’d look for anything historical, and I’d study my magic. Ari didn’t have a scrap of magicka in her so that was why I learned how to cast light - I had to if we wanted to keep reading.”

“Why Restoration though? That and protection are very specific roads to go down, and you’re not a healer. What made you want to learn them?”

“I had to. When I worked in the dungeon there was this prisoner… Valen Dreth, that was his name. I never did ask what it was he was in there for but he was always kind to me. I had a soft spot for him. He’d always strike up conversation when I cleaned near his cell and he always made my day a little better. I guess you could say we became friends. But the guards weren’t so good to him… they beat him something terrible whenever they got the chance. I couldn’t stand to see it happen but there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was cast him a protection spell beforehand and heal his injuries afterwards - the guards hated me doing it but they couldn’t stop me. I have keys to every cell door so I could see to him whenever I needed to.”

“He must’ve appreciated that.”

“He did. We’d talk for ages while I cleaned his wounds, he’d share stories of his time living in Morrowind and I’d tell him all about what was going on in the city above… I’d sneak him in some of Ari’s good sweetcake whenever she made it.”

Ili tried, and failed, to suppress a wide grin, her lips pursed tight. She blushed. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but… he kissed me a couple of times.”

Farwil laughed out loud, but the look on his face betrayed how truly horrified he was. “A prisoner _kissed you?_ ” he repeated. “And you came back for more? Didn’t you feel _unsafe?_ ”

The girl only blushed harder. They began to climb the hill to the Castle. “You make it sound a lot more… if you were there you might have thought it was sweet of him. I certainly did.”

The Dunmer thought for a moment. “ _Valen Dreth_ was sprung from the dungeon during the attack on the Imperial City, wasn’t he?” he asked. “I read about it in the Courier some weeks ago. There was no sign of a forced exit… it seems like someone took advantage of the chaos happening above to get him out unnoticed…”

Ili raised her eyebrows at the look Farwil was giving her.

“ _…What?_ ”

She too began to laugh, and his wicked smirk grew wider still. “You wouldn’t know anything about that… would you? You did mention you still have all the keys…”

The Imperial - still blushing violently - said nothing, opting instead to raise an index finger to her lips in a shushing motion. The pair giggled together as they crossed the courtyard, opened the massive Castle doors and entered the relative darkness inside.

While they made their way through the County Hall Ili wondered how the Count would react to seeing her again - after all, the last time he’d seen her she’d had her tongue half way down his son’s throat. No matter how delighted he’d been to see Farwil safe and well, and to see the Oblivion gate closed, she doubted she’d made a great first impression after that… and secretly doubted he’d approve of her. She’d shared this with Farwil the night before, of course.

_”Ili… you saved my life,” he’d said. “I could’ve taken you over that table in front of everyone and he’d still like you”._

_“Even if he did like me enough… that doesn’t mean he’d approve of_ us _,” Ili had pointed out. “I’m not a Dunmer, and I’m_ certainly _not a noble.”_

 _“My father always said I’m free to be with whoever I loved, be her Dunmer or otherwise, and I love_ you _. As for you not being a noble… you’re the Champion of Cyrodiil. That’s worth more than any noble in that Castle. Combined.”_

Even so, she was quiet as they approached Count Andel Indarys, whose face brightened at the sight of his son and the Champion.

“Farwil, you brought Iliana with you!” he said, getting to his feet. The pair came closer and he extended a wrinkled and bony hand to the Imperial.

“It’s so good to see you again Iliana…” he said as she took it with her free hand, still nervous to look him fully in the eye. “We were all anxious to hear any news of your journey, and delighted to learn you’d saved us all. I can’t congratulate or thank you enough for any of it.”

Nowadays so many people recognised her by her bestowed title alone, it was strange to have someone call her by her actual name. She gathered the courage to look into those tired crimson eyes, and when she did he was beaming. “You don’t need to thank me,” she said, smiling warmly up at him. “I’m just glad it’s over, that’s all.”

“There’s something Ili wants to ask you,” Farwil interjected. He let go of the girl’s hand. “…I need to get something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

And with that Farwil left them, jogging in the direction of the massive stairs. The Count watched him go with a warm smile spread across his ancient face. He and the Champion stood in silence for a while, Ili shifting awkwardly on her feet and avoiding his eye, until he spoke again.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you back in Cheydinhal,” he said, speaking quietly enough that Ili knew it was only for her to hear as he placed a hand lightly on her back and ushered her to one side of the open hall. The guards dutifully ignored them. “I haven’t seen Farwil this happy since before the Oblivion Crisis! He’s not been the same since then.”

Ili’s nervous smile faltered. “I think that’s to be expected… he’s grieving. It’ll take some time for him to get back to normal, won’t it?”

“That goes without saying… but that’s not what I’m talking about. Something about meeting _you_ changed him. It wasn’t much time ago in the grand scheme of things… but the difference is clear.”

“Has he really changed that much?”

“I won’t pretend I didn’t often worry that Farwil might not become the man he needs to be… until it’s too late. I won’t be around forever. It’s not just the Knights of the Thorn he’s been taking more seriously - he knows he’s going to be the Count some day, and he’s beginning to act like it. Perhaps you’ve inspired him to be a better man.”

The Count leaned in a little. “Between you and me, I think I hoped for your return more than he did… for his sake. He’d have been heartbroken if you hadn’t come back.”

Ili blushed. If she hadn’t already felt some remorse over putting off this trip for so long, now she felt truly guilty. “That’s what I came here to ask about,” she said. “My mother and I are in need of a place to live, and Farwil told me…”

“Oh yes! The house!”

The Count straightened up excitedly and reached into a pocket, producing a ring of keys so quickly Ili could only assume he’d been carrying them around on the off-chance somebody asked. He pushed them straight into Ili’s hand and closed her fingers around it.

“You should talk to my steward to arrange the payment - needless to say, a Champion of Cyrodiil should have a fitting discount on any home here. As for the house… Farwil can show you the way. For both you and your mother it might be somewhat small, but I imagine you can find a way of making it work.”

It took a moment for Ili to take it all in. “Um… thank you sir!”

“Get Farwil to take you to Borba’s Goods and Stores as well - you’ll need to furnish the place. As it stands now, the place is fairly bare.”

Ili was about to respond when the sight of Farwil moving at the far end of the quiet hall distracted her. He returned, tucked under his arm was some kind of garment, and in his other hand he carried a pair of matching boots. Ili had never seen him look quite so excited.

His father positively beamed. “Is that it?” he asked, nodding once at the pale bundle.

Farwil nodded enthusiastically, and although he looked like he too wanted to shove the pile of clothing into the Imperial’s arms, he instead held it out for her to take a closer look.

“Every Knight of the Thorn needs a good set of armour to proudly show their affiliation,” he said. Though his words were sure and confident, the anticipation was clear in his voice. “And I know you don’t like wearing steel or anything heavy like that. So I commissioned a light edition. Here…”

Ili looped the keys over a finger and inspected the armour, first lifting gauntlets off the top of the pile - the softest, finest leather she’d ever touched in her whole life, and probably would - and then a matching cuirass and pants, all in the same exquisite material. As she lifted up the cuirass, at first she could only stare.

The leather was a pale grey, here and there were accents, small panels, some in metal and some in brown leather. It wasn’t just an imitation of the steel armour the other Knights wore - it was a wholly unique set. The leather was embossed in places… intricate designs had been engraved. Not too many as to overwhelm the piece, but enough to add a flair that Ili thought was in perfect taste. The first one she recognised was the emblem belonging to the Knights of the Thorn - that sword facing downwards, the bramble circling it, running down the right arm. The other designs took her longer to make out. She ran her fingers over the subtle twists and turns, not like the bramble, much more like filigree. They’d even been engraved in the buckles, and the straps holding the armour together.

She glanced up at Farwil, whose ears drooped nervously. He wore a shy smile, expectant.

“This… these are Daedric patterns… aren’t they?” she asked in utter shock, indicating the engravings. “You had these done to match my warhammer. You did, didn’t you?”

She was sure that if his smile was any wider, any bigger, his beautiful face would break. He nodded with enthusiasm. “Do you like it?”

Ili was left completely speechless. She couldn’t quite believe he’d done this. Aside from being unable to remotely fathom what this must’ve cost him, the effort and the thought that had gone into the design overwhelmed her entirely. He’d planned this for when she came back… even if she never did. She unfolded the pants, and took a quick look at the boots Farwil was still holding. They were all the same.

“I… I can’t…” she stammered. Words had foresaken her completely. “Oh, Farwil, I love it… it’s beautiful! Thank you!”

Armour still between them, she dived towards him and threw her arms around him. She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe you did this… it’s the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given!”

Relief broke over the younger elf’s face as he juggled both the armour and the Imperial who simply refused to let go of him. “I’m glad you like it.”

*

*

A somewhat weak morning sun began to emerge from behind still-grey clouds overhead, casting a strong glare onto the wet stone underfoot. Along the path, the Dunmer glanced sideways at Ili for what must’ve been the tenth time since they left the Castle. The first few times Ili was able to assume he was admiring the armour, or maybe her in the armour, but now she felt inclined to say something.

“What are you _staring_ at, Farwil?”

“I just want to know you feel comfortable in the armour. Are you _sure_ it fits you right? We can have it tailored right now if not.”

“For the _last time_ …” Ili sighed in mock frustration. “It’s perfect. I don’t know how you knew my exact measurements but it really does fit me perfect.”

It really was the most comfortable armour she’d ever worn. Much more so than glass - stronger, too, and after a brief sparring session with Farwil, she’d learned it was as easy to move in as the light armour vest that saw her through so many Oblivion gates, and really, there was nothing to that.

In a far corner of the city, Farwil began to slow their pace, still holding tight to the Imperial’s hand.

“Is this it?” Ili asked, looking up at the nearest building.

“That’s it,” Farwil replied. “Welcome to your new home!”

He stood aside and Ili approached the door. She took the ring of keys from her satchel and after a couple of tries she found the right one. She pushed on the door and it opened with a languid creak. Farwil followed her after the darkness inside swallowed her up completely.

Her voice echoed around the empty room. “Your father wasn’t lying,” she said simply. “It _is_ bare.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” Ili moved further through the dark foyer. “This level, maybe it could be a _very_ small bookstore. Enough to get Mother back on her feet. We might have to pile some up but I can definitely see it working. Maybe we can dig out a cellar, that would give us more room."

Farwil left her to explore the upper floor while Ili continued piecing together the store in her mind’s eye. Eventually she followed him.

“Ili! Come quick!” came the Dunmer’s excited voice from the far room. “You won’t _believe_ what I found in here!”

Ili made straight for the far room, her curiosity fully piqued, to find Farwil standing happily in more darkness, more emptiness, and most importantly, more of nothing.

She looked around quickly. She couldn’t see it. “What is it? _What_ did you find?”

He grinned wickedly and pointed behind her, and her head turned. “Look! A bed!”

Before she knew it, Farwil tackled her onto it. She screamed in surprise and the pair laughed together.

“Farwil!” Ili cried. “…The armour!”

“Sod the armour,” he purred, straddling her and nuzzling his nose against hers. “I say sod everything until we’ve properly christened this bed.”

Ili giggled as his mouth closed over hers, and neither came up for air for several minutes. She had a home, and a bed, and right now nothing much else in this city - what remained of her possessions were split between the burned-down family home in the Imperial City and a couple of chests up at Cloud Ruler Temple that the Blades had been kind enough to let her use. She had a lot of money though, she’d collected a _lot_ of gear from all the Dremora she’d had to kill over the course of her adventure, and as it turned out, that did not sell cheaply.

The bed linen was rudimentary, and it scratched at what skin was exposed as Farwil’s heavy body trapped her there. He ground his need into her as he settled between her thighs, and she ground straight back. It would do for now, but Ili looked forward to moving in some of the good quilts from her old home - the ones that survived, that was.

“You’re mine… you know that?” Farwil murmured into her ear. He got to work on the straps of her beautiful new cuirass. He’d only gifted it to her perhaps an hour before and already he’d see her take it off. “You’re the Hero of Kvatch… Champion of Peryite… Champion of Cyrodiil… gods only know what else… and most importantly, mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore Farwil perhaps feeling not so great after the events of _The Wayward Knight_ because no matter how much of an ass he might be, I can't imagine him being totally unfazed by losing 5 of his friends like that. I think maybe because I find him so attractive I can't really feel the frustration with him that a lot of people did, and I forgave it even when I had to reload my save for the hundredth time because he jumped off the bridge again.
> 
> It took me a long time in my Evie run to finish (she was like, level 26 by then at least) but I was laughing the whole time and I was kinda sad when it came to an end. I loved Farwil's character and his dialogue, and I found him truly endearing. So I wanted to write a story to match.


End file.
